


Pavlove

by SecretJungle88



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: College, College AU, M/M, Pavlov, Psychological Conditioning, Psychology, anxious patrick, confident pete, manipulation in the good way? if that's a thing?, nerdy patrick, patrick's mom just wants him to make friends, pavlove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-18 14:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretJungle88/pseuds/SecretJungle88
Summary: Patrick loved two things in this world; music and getting inside people's heads. Patrick wanted to study music at college. His family told him to study psychology. So he was studying psychology.It might not have been his first preference, but psychology wasn't that bad half the time. Especially considering it laid out the blueprints on how to make anybody to fall in love with you. And Patrick had his heart set on the cute guy who ate dinner with him, and really loved those cookies given out with every meal.





	1. Chapter 1

Despite everything, Patrick _liked_ college.

He was enjoying himself, decorating his little dorm room with band posters and his crates of records. He was enjoying his psychology program, and was keeping up with all his assignments and assigned reading and whatnot. He was taking care of himself too, making a lot more use of the shower facilities than the other guys in his dorm, and always made time in his busy college schedule to just settle down in his room and write some music to keep himself sane.

He was never one of those teenagers that were just _itching_ to get away from home, but he’d be lying if said that he wasn’t enjoying his independence. But he still made sure to call his Mom every night. God knows she worried about him. And tonight was no different.

“Look, ‘Tricky, I’m glad you’re getting all your work done, but have you made any _friends_ yet? You've been there for three _months_.” Her anxiety could be heard even over the phone as Patrick sat on the park bench outside his dorm with his cell phone. There was some drinking game going on at the party in the basement, and the walls weren’t exactly soundproof.

“I’ve got _friends_ , Mom.” Patrick sighed, scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the concrete. “I, I eat dinner with this big group of guys, and they’re pretty great. And then I did a partner assignment with that girl, Elisa, remember?”

“And have you _seen_ Elisa since you finished that assignment a month ago?”

“Well, I mean, I sometimes see her across the lecture hall…”

“And that group of guys. Do you know their names?” She asked, almost accusingly.

“Um…” Patrick racked his brain for names he heard called across the table. “There’s… there’s Andy, and Joe, and Brendon, and, and I think there’s a Josh as well. Oh, and Mark! Mark as well. Yeah. Oh, and Pete.”

She didn’t seem impressed. “Do any of them know _your_ name?”

Patrick sighed. “Mom…”

“Patrick, sweetheart, you can’t go through college without friends. I’m sure there’s some kind of party… or something that you could be at right now. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you make time for your ol’ Ma, but you’ve got to make some _friends_.”

“I’m not going to make any sort of friends at a _party._ ” Patrick nearly threw up in his mouth at the thought of it. “You know as well as I do that I’m not a party person.”

She sighed again. “Now is _your_ time, ‘Tricky. You always told me that you’d make friends once you got out of high school, and got to meet other people at college who were into the same things you were. You’re at that point now, sweetheart. If not now, then _when_?”

Patrick listened to the muffled beat coming from the dorm, and hung his head. “Yeah. I don’t, I’ll figure it out, Mom. Don’t worry about me, okay? You gotta live your own life. How’s Dad?”

“Don’t try and change the subject on me!” She scolded him playfully. “But we’re good, honey. Look, do me a favor and go to at least one event on campus that isn’t part of your degree. Whether it’s a party, or whether it’s some kind of club, just go do something and make some friends!”

Patrick rolled his eyes and smiled against his phone. “Alright Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too ‘Tricky. Be safe, and make friends!”

“Will do. Goodnight.”

\----------------------

Patrick loved two things; music and getting inside other people’s heads to write music about them. Patrick wanted to study music. His family recommended he study psychology. So he was studying psychology.

He didn’t hate psychology though, in fact he found his course to be quite interesting. Sure, he’d rather spend the time he spent doing the statistical analysis unit sitting in his room playing guitar, but most of the content was quite interesting.

Right now he was studying Pavlov’s dogs, and the theories of conditioning. And even though he knew it was quite dorky, he was _really_ enjoying this unit. So much so that he had taken his textbook to the dining hall to continue taking notes on his chapter while he ate.

He was getting right down into his _unconditioned stimuli_ while forking down mouthfuls of pasta when one of the guys sitting at the table gently tapped his shoulder. “Whatcha readin’?”

“School stuff.” Patrick said through a mouthful of food, not even bothering to turn to face this other person.

“Sounds like fun.” The other person joked, shifting closer to Patrick. “Hey, are you gonna eat your cookie? Because honestly, the cookies in this place are better than cocaine, and you don’t really seem like a cookie kinda guy…”

Patrick had to look up from his notes this time, glancing at the mysterious stranger who literally started a conversation where his only intention was of taking his cookie. And as much as Patrick wanted to shove his cookie into his pocket (The guy wasnt lying, they must be shoving these things with crack or something) and tell him to _fuck off_ , he paused.

Patrick sat at a table with a group of other guys for three reasons. One, he needed to please his mother. Two, they’d invited him to join them on his first day when they’d seen he was wearing a David Bowie shirt. And three, Patrick was evermore questioning his sexuality when he saw this one guy from the group. There was no doubt that he was a bit weird, the guy wore _eyeliner_ around college, and had the worst fashion sense that Patrick had ever seen. But he absolutely _oozed_ confidence, something that Patrick definitely did not, and Patrick would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t do the little _badum badum_ whenever he saw him.

His heart was doing the _badum badum_ right now, considering it was that guy smiling at him and looking at the cookie next to his pasta bowl.

“You don’t have to.” The guy chuckled awkwardly, watching as Patrick curled his arms up and seemed almost frightened. “Sorry.”

Patrick tried to pull his shit together, and _quickly._ “No, no, it’s alright. You can have it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, of course.” Patrick gently picked up the plastic packet and slid it accross the table to the other guy. “All yours.”

“Thanks, dude.” The other guy laughed, quickly taking off the plastic and popping it in his mouth. “What’s your name?”

“Patrick.” Patrick managed, wishing his heart would stop pounding. “You?”

“Pete. Pete Wentz.” The other guy, Pete, introduced through a mouthful of cookie. “What’s the deal with you? You’re here like, for every meal, but you don’t say anything.”

_Oh, great. Perfect._ “Uh…” He fumbled for a reasonable response. “I dunno. I’m just, quiet, I guess.”

Pete shrugged. “You should say more, you know? You seem cool. I don’t know a lot of…” he glanced at the textbook. “Psychology? I’m guessing? Majors who also like Def Leppard.”

Patrick glanced down at his t-shirt, and blushed. “Yeah, maybe…”

Pete shrugged. “Nice to meet you. Anyway, I guess I’ll see you around. Thanks for the cookie, Paul.”

He was already walking off before Patrick had a chance to correct him, but there was no denying the _badum badum_ in his chest. Deep down, he knew that Pete had only given him the time of day because Patrick let him have his food, but there was something there he could hold onto. Maybe.

He glanced down at his textbook and sighed. It was interesting, sure, but there was no way that conditioned responses were as interesting as Pete Wentz. Then Patrick blinked. Then blinked again. No… that wasn’t something he could do… was it? Pete was the one who had asked him for the cookie… but then again, it wouldn’t be difficult… he had to prove one of the theories for his next assignment anyway….

He waited until Pete disappeared from the dining hall, before running around to everyone still seated and requesting their cookies. He got quite a few _fuck off's_ , but he also ended up with a backpack full of cookies. Especially when he emptied the bowl of cookies in the corner into his bag. 

Deep down, he knew this was wrong. Very, very, very morally wrong. But there was also this giddiness along with the _badum badum badum_ 's that were getting stronger. 

Pavlov conditioned dogs to associate the sound of a bell with food. Patrick was going to make Pete Wentz associate him with his favorite cookies.

\-----------

Patrick was excited. He was excited about the new notebook he had bought, he was excited about his 100% mark on the Pavlov pop quiz, but most importantly he was excited about the 3 cookies he’d stashed in his backpack, for the chance that he might run into Pete.

Problem was, it was harder than expected.

Patrick ran on a schedule. Up at 6:30, shower at 6:45, breakfast at 7:30, first class at 8am, then a mix of classes and study time until 5pm, then back to his dorm, then dinner at 6:30, and then back up to his room for music time until he called his Mom at 9. 

Pete did not live on a schedule. Some days, Patrick saw him at all 3 of his meals. Some days he didn’t see him at any of them. Sometimes Pete and the rest of the group would come into the dining hall just as Patrick was finishing up and getting ready to return his empty bowl, like today.

_Oh god, it’s now or never_. Patrick tried to ignore that _badum badum_ and quickly approached the group. “Hey, guys…”

“Phil!” Pete grinned. “Nice to see you again.”

“Patrick.” Patrick corrected, but smiled to show that it really didn’t bother him. “Hey, um, they were giving cookies out with lunch today too, and I dunno, I just thought…” He dug through his backpack and presented it.

**Day One.** _Subject’s response to cookie stimulus are wide eyes, relaxed shoulders, smiling, increased salvation. Feelings of emotional security. Subject does not remember my name, but thanks me for the cookie and eats it immediately. Even before dinner. That’s kinda weird._

\-------------

The next time Patrick ran into Pete was three days later, and not in the dining hall. Patrick was sitting in the library, working on his research paper, when he spotted his ~~love interest~~ subject. Pete was alone, sitting with a cup of coffee and his head rested on his hand as he read a very large book open on his table. 

And so, like any good researcher, Patrick grabbed his stuff and sat down in the chair next to him. “Hey.”

Pete glanced up and gave Patrick a small smile. “Hey, Preston. Whatcha doing?”

“Just working on my paper.” Patrick shrugged awkwardly, clutching the cookie in his palm underneath the table. “You?”

“Reading.” Pete sighed, turning the page. “There’s so much _reading_. I mean, I thought being an english major meant we got to write all the time, but it turns out that we just study _other_ people’s writings. And there’s so many books we have to read.”

Patrick nodded uncertainly. “Yeah. Psychology has a lot of reading too. Different stuff, though.”

“Yeah.” Pete sighed to himself. “But you seem smart though. You’re probably acing everything.”

Patrick didn’t really want to tell him that he was acing everything. “Are you saying that just because I have glasses?”

Pete laughed. “Maybe.”

Patrick shook his head playfully to hide the colour in his cheeks. “Well, look, you’re on the right track by being in the library. Anyway, here…” he pushed the cookie along the table. “Thought you might want a study snack. I saved mine from dinner last night.”

Pete’s eyes lit up, and he quickly shed the cookie of it’s wrapping. “Thanks, Preston!”

“Patrick.” Patrick corrected with a smile. “But no problem.”

**Day 2** : _Subject maintained same unconditioned responses when presented with the cookie stimulus. Got my name wrong twice. I almost ruined everything by going to leave straight after, which confused him because I made it look like I just sat down to work on my paper. So I got to sit with him for a whole hour while we worked, which was pretty amazing. His arm brushed mine sometimes. I love his tattoos. Later in the experiment I might ask him more about them. But he has to view me with a positive frame first. And then hopefully, a romantic one. I wonder if he wants a family when he’s older. I wonder if he has good music taste. Hang on, isn’t this diary meant to be a scientific write up?_


	2. Chapter 2

The third time Patrick saw Pete, he really wished he didn’t.

Not because he didn’t like Pete anymore, because that was certainly not the case, but rather the timing of their meeting was not one that Patrick preferred.

It was a Friday, and Patrick was sitting in the dining hall, reading over his textbook chapter and taking more notes (He’d spent a bit too much of today’s study time playing guitar), when Pete’s group of friends walked in. Pete immediately grinned when he saw him. “Parker! My dude! How’s the food today?”

Patrick shrugged. “The pizza isn’t that bad.”

It wasn’t long before his quiet reading table was bustling with noise, and he fought to try and stay focused on his textbook. He had a cookie to give Pete, but he also planned on waiting until the end of the meal. Pete had a bit of a habit of eating his cookie whenever it was handed to him, and Patrick was the kind of person who had to eat _all_ their dinner before they were allowed dessert. So he just tried to block the noise out until they’d finished their pizza.

He was starting to doubt they ever would. He could’ve been back in his room half an hour ago at this rate.

By the time they’d finished, Patrick was itching to return to the solitary haven that was his dorm room. He mumbled something about being too full for his cookie and handed it to Pete, before packing his textbooks up. God, he was glad his dorm was close to the dining hall. He was so over everything, he just needed to-

“Where are you going?” Pete interrupted. “We’re all heading to Brendon’s party. You should come!”

“Yeah!” One of the other guys, Joe, added. “C’mon, come party with us! We’re not that scary. And besides, you sit with us like, every day, and we know _nothing_ about you. It’s fun!”

Patrick bit down on his lip and hesitantly pulled his bookbag over his shoulder. “I… I’m not really a party person… you’d honestly have more fun without me. I’ll, I’ll just see you tomorrow…”

Then Pete frowned. No, it wasn’t really a frown, it was… it was a very disappointed expression. And so Patrick _freaked_.

He was trying to get Pete to associate him with good things, things that he liked. Like the taste of his favourite cookies, and study time together in the library. This look, this was a look that meant Pete was also associating a nerdy and fun hating connotation to him. That was going to screw this entire plan up. He needed to be only _positive_ things to Pete, or else Pete would never love him.

“I… I guess I can try?” He squeaked nervously, trying and failing to conceal his anxiety.

Pete grinned, his disappointed glance disappearing, and threw his hands in the air in excitement. “Awesome! Hey, go put your stuff away, put on some party clothes and meet us back here in 10, yeah?”

“I-Is 20 okay?” He stammered, trying to comprehend what ‘party clothes’ meant.

“Yeah.” Another one of them shrugged. “Your time starts now.”

\----------

Patrick had never been to a party before, but he didn’t intend to start a conversation with that. In fact, he didn’t intent to start any conversations at all. He had been handed some kind of alcoholic beverage in a red cup as he was bustled through the door with Pete’s group, but being under 21, he found it far wiser to tip it down the sink and nurse a cup of water instead.

If anyone asked him, he planned to tell them that he was the designated driver. Which he wasn’t, in fact they’d all just taken an uber here, but nobody needed to know that. As long as he had his red cup, and sort-of looked like he fit in and was enjoying himself, then he was fine.

It was a small party, compared to the ones that Patrick had seen in movies and TV shows, but the music was still blasting at a frequency that made it hard to distinguish anything but the subtle _thud_ of the speakers on the beat. Pete and all the other guys were dancing in the living room, and Patrick was just sitting on the couch in the corner, watching their moves get worse with every refill of their cups. 

And to be honest, he wasn’t enjoying himself. He knew he wouldn’t, parties weren’t a Patrick thing, but sitting here he just felt out of place. Joe had told him to wear party clothes. What the hell were _party clothes_? Everyone else just seemed to be wearing normal clothes. Now Patrick was just pulling his cardigan tighter and trying to pretend that he wasn’t wearing a fluro-yellow t-shirt. How this ended up in his cupboard, he still had no idea.

Patrick kept his eyes on his ~~love interest~~ subject though, especially when people started to leave. It was way too late, Patrick would have preferred to have been asleep hours ago, but he wasn’t exactly game to leave without Pete. Especially considering that there were only about 10 people left in this place, and Pete wasn’t exactly looking very sober.

Or sounding very sober, either. After a very awkward dance which ended in spilled beer on the carpet, he staggered over to the chair on which Patrick was seated and grinned. “PRESLEY!”

“It’s Patrick…” Patrick hesitantly rubbed the back of his head as Pete laid his head in Patrick’s lap and grinned up at him. “Um…. are you… are you okay there?”

“Yep!” Pete giggled, followed by a hiccup. “The okaaaaaay-est. Ever. _Patrick._ ”

Pete was so drunk. So, so drunk. So why couldn’t Patrick stop the _badum badum_ in his chest right now? Yeah, sure, Pete was lying on his lap and had since started touching his face, but this was in a drunken way, not a romantic one.

“You’re a llllllllittle _baby_.” Pete smiled, squishing Patrick’s cheeks around. “Look at youuuuuu. Just wwwwwwwwwwiddle! Little tiny, lllllllllllttle tiny Presley baby. At the paaaaarty. You didn’t even have a dddddddrink, baby!”

“Yeah…” Patrick mumbled through Pete’s grip on his cheeks.

“You’re tooooooooooooooo _good_ for parties.” Pete continued squishing his face around. “Just a baaaaby. And smart. I made you coooooome You, you didn’t even have a _drink_ , you know that?”

“Yeah.” Patrick managed when Pete let his hands flop to the floor. “But you’ve had way too many, so, so maybe it’s time to go home? What’s your dorm number? I’ll get you an Uber.”

Pete didn’t respond to the question, instead just rolled over until his face was buried in Patrick’s thighs. Patrick, despite the _badum badum’s_ , called an uber anyway. 

Drunk Pete sure was something. Patrick helped him walk, considering he was hardly holding himself up, and practically shoved him into the uber back to campus. Patrick tried to get some sort of address or dorm number from the guy, and even tried to just get Pete to point in the general direction when they got to the dining hall, but Drunk Pete just had them going in circles, and giggled in response to Patrick’s exhausted grunts.

“You’re a _strong_ baby.” Pete giggled, letting his head loll onto Patrick’s shoulder as Patrick stopped for breath. “We should go to EUROPE!”

“ _Bed_.” Patrick huffed, holding back his temper. “How about we go to _bed?_ Dude, we’ve got classes tomorrow.”

Pete giggled. “ _Your_ bed?”

“No, _your_ bed. Where the hell do you live?” 

“Where the hell do _you_ live?”

Patrick sighed in frustration. Fucking hell. He was going to have to take Drunk Pete back to his dorm. He’d paid so much for a private room, he hated people in his space. But this guy wasn’t going home by the sounds of things. And Patrick wasn’t going to leave this lost soul on the street.

He didn’t even turn the lights on as he dragged Drunk Pete into the room. The more Pete saw, the more he knew, so Patrick just kept quiet and laid him on the bed. He pulled Drunk Pete’s shoes off, made him drink some water and then covered him with a blanket for the night. Patrick found the spare blanket in the cupboard and made himself a bed on the rug. It would do for now.

“Baaaaaaaby…” Drunk Pete mumbled, letting his hand hang off the side of the bed. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?”

The _badum badum’s_ were very hard to ignore. Patrick would have given one to Pete in a heartbeat, but this Pete was Drunk Pete, and Patrick just sighed. “Just sleep, Pete.”


End file.
